CHAPTER 12
Everything seems to be in a hush whisper as the city prepared for the Starfall event. No moon was out tonight over the backdrop of a starless sky to greet Zivia. Overhead, all the lights in the whole city of Velaris were dimmed. Every structure blended seamlessly in the almost dark, creating the illusion of an endless plain.
She brushed her hand over the front of her dress, smoothing out phantom creases then walked over to the mirror in her room. For once, her hair decided to cooperate with her and allowed to be left unbraided; half side of it slicked back and the rest falling in smoothly past her shoulders. She picked up a silver-chained tassel ear cuff and placed it over her right ear, completing her look.
Foregoing extravagance, she opted for a simpler a-line crepe dress in powder blue color, a rhinestone-studded silver lace belt the only glittering accessory in her whole ensemble, when they were shopping. The gown was backless as she requested, for her to easily wear over her wings. She decidedly refrained from adding any illusion on it seeing as it was perfect on its own in her body. Stepping back, she studied her reflection and made the necessary adjustments with her glamour, mostly for the scars all over her back and some that were peeking over her bare shoulders. Satisfied, she went on to join the others on the outer balconies of the House.
Dim lights and low chatter greeted her as she made her way towards the patio. Morrigan was the first one she spotted, hunched over a table of food and beverages. She maneuvered her way towards her, careful not to knock over any revellers with her wings.
"Hey," she said as a way of greeting. "I thought you weren't gonna come."
"Zivia!" Mor shrieked loud enough to draw attention from a nearby group of faes. "You look absolutely magnificent!"
"So do you." She replied as she eyed Mor's plum bodycon attire. It was a two-piece velvet gown with a top cut short just above her belly button showcasing off the curves of her midriff. Her eyes travelled up to her face, choosing to comment on her broad smile rather than her well-nigh exposed cleavage. "You look rather ecstatic. I take it everything went well?"
Mor's grin was almost blinding as a thousand diamond jewels. "More than well. Come on, it's about to begin soon."
Zivia allowed herself to be dragged over to a spot with a better view of the sky and with less people.
"What drink do you want? I'll get us some, wait here."
Mor disappeared among the crowd even before she could answer.
There were quite a few partaking in the celebration and Zivia looked around hoping to see more familiar faces. Right across from where she was standing, she saw the Lord and Lady of the Court having a conversation with some strangers and Mother above, they were a sight to behold. The High Lady wore a black tight-fitting dress with a slit that shows one of her slender legs. It was covered in embroidered beads that sparkle like stars when the light hit them in an angle. The High lord dazzles just as equally beside her in his white shirt and matching black sparkling jacket.
They sure do live up to their title, Zivia thought.
Feyre caught her gaze and smiled at her, lifting a toast in her direction. She would've returned the gesture if she had something in her hand to toast as well. But she didn't so she just waved back.
"What's taking Mor so long?" she said to no one in particular.
As Zivia looked around for her missing companion, she noticed a red-headed stranger. Well, almost everyone here is a stranger to her, except those she already knew, but the man looked out of place and very noticeably doesn't belong among the others. When he turned his head, Zivia saw that one side of his face is marred by a scar running down from his brows to his jaw, going over one eye – which she realized was made of gold metal, replacing the one undoubtedly damaged beyond repair by whatever inflicted that wound. That didn't diminish his attractiveness, however. In fact, the mark seems to add more to his charm – a charm that apparently caught the attention of the High Lady's sister.
Zivia watched curiously as Elain, resplendent in her pink floral tulle gown, snuck nervous glances towards the mysterious stranger before deciding to approach him.
This looks promising. Inching a tad closer, she inclined her head to see more from the intriguing scenario unfolding before her.
"I never pegged you to be the snooping sort."
Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, catching herself and feigning nonchalance before facing the intruder who dared disturb her. She was grossly fascinated with what was happening between Elain and her svelte fellow that she didn't feel Azriel approach.
"I wasn't snooping" she denied, "I was…observing." Zivia crossed her arms over her chest for added effect, though she knew damn well she wasn't going to fool anyone, least of all the spymaster himself.
Azriel chose not to comment further and she didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted. He handed her a glass of sparkling champagne and nodded towards a group of revellers having a rather lively chat. A golden-haired woman laughed at what one of the strangers said, her rollicking cackle echoing across the room.
No wonder she was taking so long. Morrigan got completely sidetracked and forgot about her. Or not, since the drink Azriel gave her most probably came at her request. Zivia took the champagne flute and downed the drink in one gulp, taking satisfaction at the warmth it brought. She placed the empty glass at the nearest table and went back to Azriel.
"You look different," she mused, taking in his crisp tunic which perfectly outlines his fit body. The fabric is in a deep blue color it almost looked black – a suitable shade accentuating both his deep complexion and the siphons gleaming on the back of both his hands. It was plain compared to the High Lord's flashier garb but the shadowsinger made that simple of an outfit look regal on him. "You're frowning less today."
She quickly turned away, focusing on a spot beyond the balconies. A blush was creeping up her neck and cheeks. There was always that acrobatic move her heart is making whenever she stares a little too long at him. And she hated it. She took a deep breath of air to calm her nerves and regain control.
"You look beautiful. Blue suits you well."
Well, fuck.
Her nose suddenly felt itchy and she walked over to the railing to lean on her elbows before she could fall on her suddenly wobbly legs. "Thanks," she said over her shoulders, not trusting herself to face him without revealing how much his words affected her. It was so absurd. It wasn't even much of a confession as it was a compliment. Yet why does she feel like someone just proposed to her? It was so stupid. She felt so stupid.
"So, what is this all about?" Zivia gestured at the party, glad that the diversion she needed came so easily to her. "Are we going stargazing? Because there sure are plenty of stars out here tonight."
Azriel gave his own version of an eye roll at her sarcasm and pointed at the blank sky. "Sort of."
"There's really noth–"
Her protest was cut short as a star vaulted across the sky, so close that she could've reached out and touched it. The revellers behind them as well the city overhead cheered and toasted their glasses as it disappeared into the horizon.
Another followed suit, just as bright and close as the first one. Before she knew it, the whole night sky was covered with thousands of falling stars, igniting the whole city with gleaming brightness.
"Oh wow."
It was like the heaven crashed down on them; a kaleidoscope of white and blue everywhere. Never has she seen anything like this before.
"This is amazing!" Zivia turned to Azriel.
The shadowsinger had his head tipped towards the sky, eyes glazed with the phosphorescence glow of the stars swooshing past them. His voice was a soft whisper when he spoke. "I know."
He looked so unguarded and so at peace that she longed to reach out and touch him just to make sure he was real. She stopped herself before she could act on her foolish thoughts. Azriel turned to her and she couldn't help admiring the innocent look on his face.
She hated it whenever he would slide back into that cool, impassive exterior of his. Hated the fact that he could shut his emotions off so easily like one would flip a switch. And most of all, she hated the fact that she was staring yet again.
Damn the Cauldron.
"What?" asked Azriel.
"Nothing." She gave him an impish smile. Gathering up the skirts of her gown, she hopped onto the balcony railing and stood precariously on the edge, the fabrics of her dress billowing in the wind like smoke.
"What are you doing?" The slight concern in his voice almost made her laugh.
He must've forgotten that she was completely capable of preventing a certain death should she fall into the ravines below. She slowly turned to face him.
"You look good in blue too."
Without giving him time to react, she let her feet slip off the railing.
It was an exhilarating drop. The wind mercilessly whipped in her face and she had to maneuver herself facedown to prevent a bunch of hair becoming her dinner. Midway through, she splayed out her wings abruptly, stopping her fall, then shot back upward enjoying the thrill of defying the pull of gravity on her feet. She flew past Azriel, who was leaning over the balcony before tilting his head at her hovering above him. She could've sworn he was smirking.
Must be the wind.
She continued way up into the top of the House, fixing her now messed up hair into an equally messy updo as she landed. Inhaling a mouthful of air, she counted to five before releasing her breath through her mouth. Much better. She looked at the still streaming stars, now in full unobstructed view and upon closer inspection, realized that they weren't really stars at all but spirits – in glowing orb form.
A soft chuckle caught her attention. It wasn't from the celebration on the balconies below – it didn't sound as muted as it should this far up. The source must be nearby. She went to investigate and sure enough, found the High Lady lounging in a small private balcony jutting from the upper level not too far from her. The High Lord was with her, pulling her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The gesture was so sweet it elicited a warm feeling and also a sense of longing in her core. She missed her parents back in Cretea.
A soft beat of wings broke her from her thoughts and she backed away slowly before they caught her intruding on their personal affair.
"Okay," she said, holding her palms out in surrender. "I really was snooping this time. Not that it was intended though. How long is this gonna last?" She gestured at the stars.
"Hopefully until past dawn. There have been fewer every year."
"Hmm."
Another giggle came from the love birds below and Zivia glanced to see that they were now slow dancing, their bodies pressed together under the falling stars. They look perfect together.
"Of course they are."
She hadn't realized she'd said that thought out loud.
"They're mates," Azriel continued, "They are made for each other." He looked at Rhysand and Feyre with a melancholic expression.
"That's just nonsense," she blurted out.
He looked at her with knotted brows and waited for her to explain. "They look perfect together because they are perfect for each other. Being mated doesn't really mean that you were bound to be made for each other no matter the circumstances are. The bond isn't always a guarantee of a good relationship with someone."
She waited for him to say something, but he just stood there silent. One of the stars blazed close by and Zivia reached out her hand to trace the trail it left in its wake.
"Do you know why males were almost always the first one to discover the bond? And why only on their part would there be difficulties should it ever be rejected by the other?"
"No."
"I don't know either. But don't you think that's a very valid question? I mean, wouldn't it be better if the bond snaps only in the presence of a true, deep… transcendental… love, or whatnot, rather than it manifesting itself even before you get to know each other? 'I claim thee to be mine because some numinous power told me that you and I belong together!' Doesn't that sound ludicrous to you?" A choked laugh escaped Azriel's lips. She willed herself to keep a straight face as she continued on with her disquisition. "Humans evolved better than us in this regard. And we're supposed to be the superior race!
"Not that I have anything against this… gift… of the Cauldron, if you want to call it that. My parents were, afterall, mated themselves. I guess spending such a long time with mortals kind off veered my perspective about all of our beliefs." She looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "That kind of calling doesn't apply to them, yet they were still able to find love and happiness regardless of whether there is a bond or not. It is completely their choice who to choose as their equal without having to rely on an otherworldly magic to decide it for them."
Zivia couldn't decipher the new expression on the shadowsinger's face. A falling spirit careened close to her and she ran after it, catching it in her hands. She opened her palms to reveal glimmering dust painting her fingers. "Woah."
She waved her glitter-stained hands at Azriel while grinning then cocked her head as she remembered something. "Where's Cassian by the way? I haven't seen him around."
He seemed to ponder on the question before walking towards her in three long strides. "He's… somewhere else."
"I see."
They stood there side-by-side, wings almost touching, silently watching as the sky poured more of the star-spirits down and continually showering everything with a never-ending radiance of luminescent white. Zivia watched until her neck ached from looking up.
She went to see if Feyre and Rhysand were still on the balcony, another idea forming in her head. When she saw that the two of them were certainly not in any way making out, she turned back to Azriel, putting a finger over her lips.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What now?"
She winked at him and glided down to the lower balcony. The High Lord and High Lady were initially surprised at her sudden appearance but nonetheless welcomed her presence.
"I hope you are enjoying the party," Rhysand said.
"Very much." She dipped into an extravagant curtsy, bending deeply at the waist as she hovered in the air in front of them. She gave them her sweetest smile before flying higher up, almost joining the stars cavorting in the sky. She looked back to make sure that Azriel was still where she left him then opened her palms in front of her. A golden light bloomed in between them and she stretched out her arms, splitting it into two glowing orbs, one in each of her hands. She flexed her fingers and they multiplied. Then again, until there were now eight spheres of light circling on top of her palms.
Zivia willed the wind around her to settle before tossing the orbs into the air and making another set of them. The balls of light exploded into the sky like a handful of tossed glitters, brilliant and dazzling before sputtering out in a sizzle.
She heard gasps, followed by clapping and cheering from the revellers on the balconies.
Gathering the lasts of the sparkles, she flicked her wrist and the tiny spheres assembled – forming the insignia of the Night Court shining in vivid purple and silver colours. She turned to Azriel, feeling a sense of satisfaction upon seeing the expression on his face.
It was definitely a smirk.
The whole city was asleep when Zivia left for the mortal lands, probably still hangover from the celebration that lasted until the break of dawn. It was a great night indeed and she might've enjoyed a little too much herself. But now, it was back to business for her.
She learned from Mor that the mystery male from last night was actually the High Lord of the Spring Court's former emissary and who's now at the Mortal Lands helping Jurian.
She knew things about her mother's former lover. It won't definitely sit well with her father if he knew she was going to meet with him. The thought of his angry face tugged at her resolve but she didn't give in.
Eh, it'll be fine. He's not here anyway.
The air was a little warm today, sweetly soothing her body as she flew away from the Night Court and into the opposite end of mainland Prythian. Zivia had always preferred flight than winnowing; the former she finds much more enjoyable compared to the latter though it's much more swift and convenient – but boring. Overhead, a mountainous range loomed from the horizon. From there on, the wind dropped a good few centigrades. Zivia looked down and saw an ice kingdom below her – the Court living in an eternal winter. She passed by quickly over the other seasonal courts, slightly irked at the ever changing temperature as she flew from one territory to the next. Upon reaching the Summer Court, she slowed down as she observed a land completely destroyed of its beauty.
This was the war zone, where the most damage was inflicted during the battle. She flew closer to the ground and almost regretted it immediately. It was worse up close – everything was almost left as it was during the conflict, as if nobody can be bothered to clean after the mess. The Spring Court looks…dying. Zivia forced herself to proceed on with her journey, leaving the deplorable court behind. Finally, without any more delays, she arrived at her destination.
She landed and stretched out her wings to ease some strain, glad that the air felt comfortably warm again. It was a long flight and her back muscles ached a bit from the effort.
"Should've taken some breaks," she sighed then tucked her wings and looked around. There wasn't anyone – except for a little girl staring at her with eyes wide in either terror or shock. Or both.
Zivia crouched to the mortal's level and smiled at her. "Hello little one, would you happen to know where –"
Before she could finish her question, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream and went scurrying away from her, leaving her basket full of picked wild berries tumbling on the ground.
Great.
Zivia had intended this to be a low-profile visit; just a quick talk to Lucien and Jurian, and maybe with Vassa too, if she was there, then go back to the Spring Court to investigate more and finally back to the Night Court before the sun had kissed the horizon. Attracting unnecessary attraction – and possibly having to contend with the result of one – wasn't part of her plan. A plan that wasn't going smoothly right from the very start.
"Wait!"
She hurried after the child, already half expecting to see a platoon of mortals armed with spears and flaming torches, ready to put her head on a spike and parade it around the village for everyone to see. It was another one of her absurd thoughts and she cursed herself for it. But what else was she supposed to expect? She didn't exactly know how things worked around here. Remembering that she could've used a glamour, she cursed herself a second time for not having thought of it sooner.
Catching up to the little girl in what appeared to the outskirt of a village, Zivia readied herself for whatever might happen as more humans showed up, called out from their homes by the scream. She had expected the worse – Azriel was definitely not one of it. The shadowsinger strode behind a red-haired male – Lucien – as if he was just taking a casual walk in Velaris.
"What are you doing here?!"
He looked at her and inclined his head to the side, "What are you doing here?"
She opened her mouth to answer then suddenly remembered the girl she was chasing. "The child, I didn't mean to scare her."
"It happens," said a smooth male voice behind her and saw Lucien gesturing to the villagers as if to say that he's got it under control. "Unsuspecting villagers would often come across faes who have gone over the mortal border and gets frightened." He led them farther from the townsfolk. "We've been trying to limit inter-territorial crossings since after the war to avoid further conflict from both sides and things like these from happening, though we really couldn't completely prevent it. Some of the High Lords suggested precautionary measures for their denizens who wish to go to the mortal lands. Surely you know of that?"
"I – yeaah."
Actually, she didn't. She doesn't want to admit that she was uninformed, especially infront of the spymaster. Embarrassment clawed at her and she refused to meet his gaze, scratching the tip of her nose instead.
"You looked like you were about to march into battle back there."
Lucien had the nerve to cock an eyebrow at her before turning on his heels and marching away. For a second, she was tempted to hurl a dagger at his retreating back before Azriel stopped her with a question.
"I don't suppose you told Rhysand you were going to come here?"
"I didn't know I needed his permission." Her words came out with more bite than she intended, still feeling vexed from scar-boy's mollified insult.
"You coming or not?" Lucien half-shouted over his shoulder, already a few meters ahead of them.
She almost bared her teeth at him before perversely following him to wherever they were going.
This may not be a smart plan afterall.
"Oh."
Lucien's face was a part-shocked-part-confused mess after hearing of her mission and where she was actually from. "I didn't know you were Drakon's daughter."
Zivia wasn't sure why, of all the things she just told him, he chose to make a point of that.
"I apologize for my earlier treatment. I should thank you for your help."
It was the least of the things she anticipated from him. Twice now that someone had acknowledged the noble aid their people provided during the war through her. As much as she doesn't want to be the one receiving their gratitude, knowing that she really didn't do much at the time, she still accepted it.
"Lucy!" A tall, dark brown-haired man barged in through the door. "I heard there was another crossing. So who's the unfortunate – " his coltish smile quickly vanished when he noticed there were others in the room with him. "Sorry. I didn't know we have guests."
"Honestly Jurian," Lucien snapped. "You shouldn't make fun of everything and take this more seriously. For Cauldron's sake, these are your people now!"
Zivia studied the man before her. So this is him. Hmm, not bad, mother.
He appeared well, considering the ordeal he went through for over five centuries at the hands of Amarantha. Also, he wasn't exactly what her parents told her he'd be. Something definitely changed in him.
Jurian looked at her, scrutinizing her face the same way she did, as if trying to figure out something he couldn't quite place – and watched as recognition dawned on him.
"Hello." She politely smiled.
"You."
"I'd say my mother sends her regards but – " she lifted one shoulder. "I don't make a habit of lying."
Confusion registered on his lean features but he quickly shook it off and snickered. "Of course." He looked her up and down. "Beautiful like your mother, no doubt about it. Pity that you have also inherited your father's –" he broadly gestured at her form "- unfortunate features."
"Wha-"
"Easy, sweetheart, I was just joking. I've already made truce with your parents," He scrunched his face, feigning deep thought. "Well, sort of. Anyway, these people aren't exactly mine, Lucien. Yes, I'm currently in charge of this land but you may also do well to remember that I am still just acting under Vassa's directive."
Azriel shifted, speaking for the first time. "Semantics."
Jurian glared at him, not amused by his unwarranted comment. "What are you two doing here anyway?"
Lucien spoke before either of them could answer. "They came to inquire about any progression regarding Vassa's efforts on contacting the other Mortal Queens. Where is she anyway? I thought she was with you."
Jurian walked around the room while stealing snacks laid on the table. "Nope. She's at the Continent, checking on Scythia. There seems to be some sort of lord meetings going about." Zivia and Azriel exchanged glances. "About what, I don't know. All I know is she said that she'll be back before nightfall." He tossed a peanut into the air and caught it with his mouth.
"She better be. We wouldn't want these jittery mortals –" Jurian arched a brow at Lucien, reminding him that he's also a mortal. "…the villagers… be terrorized by her transformation if ever."
Zivia wasn't entirely sure she's following. "What transformation?"
"Vassa is cursed," explained Azriel. "She turns into a firebird every night."
"Cursed by whom?"
"Some dark sorcerer," said Jurian over a mouthful of peanuts. "The other queens sold her to him."
A feeling of uneasiness crept up her spine.
"We haven't been able to find a clue as how to break her from that bound," supplied Lucien. "Nothing much is known anout the sorcerer-lord either, other than that he resides in a lake deep within the continent…"
It can't be.
"…and keeps other prisoners as well."
No.
Zivia felt like a bucket of ice has been poured on top of her.
"Koschei" Her voice was barely a gasp. She looked at the others, dread filling up her core. "Vassa was cursed by Koshei."
"The Bone Carver's brother?" asked Azriel, a thousand questions manifesting on his face.
She forced a deep breath, not able to hear anything besides the ringing in her ears and the unrelenting beat of her heart. The scars on her back tingled, reminding her of a pain long gone.
She turned to Azriel, forgetting all about his question. "I have to go."
Before anyone of them could protest, she stormed out the manor and winnowed straight back to the House of Wind. Azriel followed a second later, looking a bit concerned.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes." She considered the look the spymaster gave her. "No. I – I can't talk right now. I have to think."
"What do you know about Koschei?"
Instead of directly giving an answer, she gave him an instruction. "Don't tell anyone about this. Yet. I'll meet you with the High Lord later tonight." Without actually saying goodbye, she turned her back to him and walked to her chambers, hoping he understood that she wanted to be left alone for the moment.
Even within the confines of her room, Zivia keeps worrying over the curse that Vassa is under and couldn't sit still. If Koschei was indeed the one who cast it, then it just means trouble is coming for them. After sending word to her father, she changed into her fighting ensemble and gathered her daggers.
Then she went to find the spymaster.
Through a vague map of the Night Court that she found in the library, she was able to quickly locate where the Illyrian mountains are. She spotted someone training juvenile warriors on a flattened area on the side of a mountain.
"...so it is very important to strengthen your core muscles…"
The general's voice boomed over the eager-looking trainees though their attention strayed to her the moment she came into perceivable distance.
"Everything will be pointless if you can't even hold your stances," Cassian continued, still oblivious to her arrival.
Azriel was about to interrupt when she stopped him with a shake of her head. She put a finger on her lips, gesturing towards the young warriors as they stared at her with both curiosity and wonder; it must be their first time witnessing another winged-family with feathers.
They somehow reminded Zivia of the little ones she used to train back in Cretea prior to coming here.
"Remember, you are the next fighters of our race. The new bearers of Illyrian pride so act like it!" Cassian finished with as much gusto as he stood front and center, both fists planted on his hips.
"Done?" asked Azriel.
He nodded once and turned to his brother.
"Zivia! I didn't notice you were here."
"Hello."
"When I told you to give them basics of the training, I wasn't really expecting an exhortation of some sort," Azriel complained though Cassian paid him no mind.
"What brings you here? Want to train with them?"
"No, thank you. I was actually thinking if I could borrow your…partner…for a while, if that's okay with you."
Azriel gave her a side glance even when Cassian's eyes lit up mischievously.
"Suuure! There'd be no problems with that. If you wanted to, you can keep him." He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder but Azriel batted it away.
"Thank you." She motioned at the shadowsinger then smirked back at Cassian. "Nice speech by the way."
As they soared into the sky, she heard the general's voice echoing as they resumed on their training.
"How did you know I was here?" Azriel's voice sounded muted with the wind rushing between them.
"I didn't. Have you told the High Lord about our supposed meeting tonight?"
"Not yet."
"Good."
Zivia stopped abruptly that Azriel had overtaken her by a good distance and had to turn back. "Change of plans." She held up a hand to block whatever he was going to say. "We are not meeting the High Lord tonight. Instead, you are going to meet with him and tell him – "
"Wh –"
"I'm not finished," she snapped. "You're going to tell him that everything's alright. But I won't be able to see him for the rest of the day. In fact, for a few days actually."
"You want me to lie to Rhys?"
"It's not exactly lying so much as not telling the whole truth."
The shadowsinger looked at her like she just spoke some gibberish language. She almost rolled her eyes at him before leaving. "Tell Cassian not to be too harsh on the kids."
"Where are you going?"
Zivia faced Azriel. Her wings beat steadily behind her, creating ripples of air that sent stray strands of hair into her face.
"On an adventure."
